


A Proper (?) Reunion

by Sharyrazade



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety, Canon Bisexual Character(s), Confessions, Dear John Letter, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Family Fluff, Fantastic Racism, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Being an Asshole, Felix Hugo Fraldarius Swears, Female Friendship, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Church Route Spoilers, Fluff and Angst, Forgiveness, Future Fic, Heart-to-Heart, Isolation, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Married Couple, Mild Language, Multi, POV Multiple, Panic Attacks, Parenthood, Post-Break Up, Post-Canon, Reminiscing, Revenge, School Reunion, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Hatred, Self-Reflection, Slice of Life, Unresolved Tension, anger issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:40:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22171189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade
Summary: Five years out from the conclusion of the war, each veteran of the Resistance Army has gone on to lead lives in their own right. Still, emotional as their reunion with the Professor was, everyone could still agree that the Millennium Festival...did not go exactly as planned thanks to the Imperial Army. And besides; as Sylvain was keen on reminding, kings always threw the best parties, right?
Relationships: Annette Fantine Dominic/Felix Hugo Fraldarius, Ashe Duran | Ashe Ubert/Petra Macneary, Caspar von Bergliez/Hilda Valentine Goneril, Catherine/Rhea (Fire Emblem), Catherine/Shamir Nevrand (past), Cyril/Lysithea von Ordelia, Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Dedue Molinaro, Dorothea Arnault/Linhardt von Hevring, Ferdinand von Aegir/Bernadetta von Varley, Flayn/Ignatz Victor, Ingrid Brandl Galatea/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Manuela Casagranda/Seteth, Marianne von Edmund/Lorenz Hellman Gloucester, Minor or Background Relationship(s), My Unit | Byleth/Rhea
Comments: 17
Kudos: 39





	1. Intro ( Cyril/Lysithea, Manuela/Seteth)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Dawn of a New Day](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759881) by [Sharyrazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade). 
  * Inspired by [In Time's Flow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21644020) by [Sharyrazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade). 



> Or alternatively titled: Fear and Loathing in the New Fódlan. And a fair bit of neuroticism, for that matter.

Perhaps it had been the case in the very, very first years of its existence, but Garreg Mach Monastery had never exactly been a sleepy sort of place. But given its new status as the nerve center of a new Fódlan undergoing considerable reconstruction, it could no longer make any pretense of so being. Particularly tonight, seeing as monastery and its interior- the living quarters of its lord and lady- were to play host to some approximation of the belated millennium celebration so rudely intruded upon by the imperial army. Despite the devotion- professionally and personally- of much of the exalted professor's (apart from those involved in cleaning and maintenance of course) staff looked forward to a rather light workload until until the following morning.

_ "Greetings, Captain Cyril! You were at the markets? I or someone else would have gladly done it. The Captain of the Royal Guard shouldn't be bothering himself with little errands like this!" _

_ "Nah, it's fine. His Majesty insisted I take the night off and I wanted to get some of the ingredients Lysithea requested for our dinner tonight. Besides, pretty much everyone can defend themselves and Catherine can more than handle anything that comes up." _

_ "Oh, I get it, captain! A night in with the missus, huh? So you're not attending the reunion?" _

_ "Maybe we'll drop in for a bit, but Lysithea isn't really big on this kind of thing." _

_ "Well, the Professor- His Majesty was always good at reading people and relationships. He knows how important it is for busy couples to just take time to themselves. Oh, I almost forgot! Did you hear he and Lady Rhea are expecting again?" _

_ ""Course I did. I'm busy, not deaf." _

_ "That Princess Hestia's just a ray of sunshine, huh?" _

_ "Yep. Just like her cousin. She uses way smaller words than Flayn though, but then again, she's three and-a-half." _

_ "I know, I know. As long as it's happy and healthy, but I'm personally hoping they have a little prince this time. I know when he gets a bit older, the Professor would want to instruct him himself, but I'd actually kinda look forward to a little bit of sparring! I mean, we all know how strong his father is." _

Needless to say, as the High King's right hand, a certain headmaster-turned-general was rather...strict about preparations for the upcoming festivities and their suitability for hosting such a celebration. But given his second wife's particular vice, said preparations necessarily involved watching her like a hawk and having Hanneman raid her infirmary.  


_"Hey! You don't have to ransack the place! And what's with the carving hammer, anyway?! Hey! That one's super-rare! That bottle cost me an arm and a leg!_

_"Goddess damn it, Manuela! What part of 'you are pregnant' escapes you?! We all know what your impulse control is like! And a pregnancy at your age-"_

_"What's that supposed to mean?! And aren't you going a LITTLE overboard?"_

_"The king, your husband, and stepdaughter alike insisted this was a necessary step!"_

_"Oh, fine! The next eight months are really going to suck, you know that?"_

_"An acceptable sacrifice, Manuela."_

_"Yeah, I know. But still."_


	2. The Flame or the Knee (Ferdinand/Bernadetta)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even among all of their old friends and classmates, Bernadetta becoming overwhelmed with the social situation at the reunion was not exactly a surprise. Stealing away from the party to decompress, Bernadetta learns that even her seemingly-fearless husband had something weighing heavily on his mind ever since his flight from the Empire...

While they had agreed to attend months before tonight, it was no surprise that the newest lady of House Aegir was ill at ease in such a social situation, even surrounded by those they had both trusted with their lives and hosted by the instructor they both revered. Precisely as they had discussed beforehand, Ferdinand was not at all adverse to taking his bride out by the green path to decompress...for all the good it did. And she did have other concerns on her mind, as well.

"I-I changed my mind!" Bernadetta stammered quickly. "I can't do this after all! Th-there are just so many people, there's so much noise, I thought I was gonna be sick! And I can't believe I left Maruis with the maids! A boy of his age needs his mother-"

Firmly but kindly, Ferdinand placed his hands on his wife's shoulders, looking her in her fearful eyes. "Bernie, Bernie," he began gently. "you're letting your thoughts run away with you."

Bernadetta sighed. "I know, I know." she conceded.

"Do you want to tell me what this is really about?"

Bernadetta looked away from her husband's gaze guiltily. "I know, I know how kind she's been to us," she began. "but she- Lady Rhea- is just so scary! And how the Professor can just be around her- love her- have a child with her- like there's NOTHING wrong?!"

_"Oh, Bernie."_ thought Ferdinand pensively. _"Lady Rhea at her absolute worst has nothing on her."_ He'd been far afield of The Immaculate One- close enough to see the noticeable despair in their dear teacher's body language anyway- and he stood by his assertion. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, Edelgard von Hresvelg, in all their time at Garreg Mach, was rather neutral in expression and demeanor. Almost to an unsettling degree, he remembered. But for that one time out of a hundred? While they were clearly meant only for Hubert's ears ( _"As always, Hubert; this conversation never happened." "What conversation, milady?"_ ), his own lodgings had been close enough to catch many of those tirades on the rare occasions when Edelgard would let let loose with said barrages of abuse. More often than not, said rants involved Edelgard making very graphic threats and wishes-slash-promises concerning some individuals or institutions with whom she was particularly frustrated, always involving the terms "fire" or "blood" or more often than not, both together.

While extraordinarily disturbed, on some level, Ferdinand could play it off as her simply blowing off steam. While distasteful, he could look past the crucifixion of some barons for a series of offenses up to and including running an illicit slave trade. He actually agreed with their executions. He could even look past the deposition of his father for whose life he had to plea or her addition of immolation to the empire's penal code as a method of capital punishment.

But it was his very last conversation about blood feuds in the early empire with her during the crucifixion of his father's right-hand man ( _"I swear to you, on the honor of the name Ferdinand von Aegir, that I vow to do my noble duty and tell you if I feel you are failing the empire and her people." promised Ferdinand. Imperial regalia adorning her body, the emperor retained a stony, utterly-serious countenance. "And I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, swear this-" she began. "If you ever betray me- betray the empire, I'll burn you alive."_ ) that finally convinced him to flee the empire. Despite what many had doubtlessly assumed, Ferdinand was no brainless dandy; he could read the writing on the wall that Edelgard may as well have painted in that poor bastard's blood.

For whatever reason, Ferdinand only found himself growing more pious with age and experience. His reasoning became gradually clearer when he and his old classmates reunited at the ruined Garreg Mach, the shy, unassertive Bernadetta being among the party. Some years later, when he first held his newborn son in his arms, Ferdinand found himself mouthing pleas to the Goddess or whatever gods would hear him, thanking them for both Bernadetta to finding the courage to join them and for the Professor not being taken in by Edelgard's sophistry. It horrified him to consider, true, but on many sleepless nights, particularly as he watched Marius sleep, Ferdinand often found his mind wandering to the questions of what exactly would have happened had those two things not been the case? He'd been jolted from sleep by more than one nightmare on the subject.

At last, Ferdinand managed a kind, mischievous smile for his anxious bride. "Well, we both have things that we're afraid of." he reminded. "Deathly so, I might add."

At this revelation, as long and as intimately as she had known him, Bernadetta looked genuinely shocked. "Really?!" she replied. "B-but everyone always goes on about how fearless you are! And you're so strong and confident! What could you possibly have to be afraid of?"

"If you truly wish to know...the thought of losing you or Marius and of Edelgard...in that order. She used to be first, but-"

Bernadetta appeared to be on the verge of tears of admiring joy. "Oh, Ferdie...my knight in shining armor!"

Throwing herself into her husband's embrace, Bernadetta, overwhelmed by accumulated emotion, began to weep a few tears of that same joy. After she had taken a few moments to compose herself, Ferdinand spoke once more. "And besides, she and Lady Rhea have been queens for about the same length of time. And I've only ever heard the phrase 'fire and blood' leave Edelgard's lips. I think we can give her a chance."

Unconsciously wincing- as though viscerally repulsed by term of which the Hresvelg princess seemed so fond- Bernadetta giggled at her lord's juxtaposition. "Oh, fair enough."

"Indeed." came a rather bored-sounding voice. "For all of her gifts and flaws, both of them profound, our dear princess was curiously unable to recognize that the Crests are simply tools. Exceptionally curious tools, but still tools nonetheless- only as good or evil as he- or she- that makes use of them."

His wife shrieking in surprise and Ferdinand's own heart skipping a beat, neither lord nor lady was exactly pleased with their intruder. "GAAAAAH! Linhardt?!" exclaimed Bernadetta. "Wh-what are you doing- how long have you been there?!"

"It is most ignoble to eavesdrop on a heartfelt conversation between a lord and his lady, Linhardt!" exclaimed Ferdinand.

Most appropriately for this time of night- or any time, really- Linhardt gave a yawn. "Long enough." he revealed. "I very recently had a rather topical conversation with Felix concerning the Professor's taste in mates. I found you two discussing the same topic and my interest was piqued."

"How engaging." remarked Ferdinand shortly. "Why not discuss it further with him?!"

"Caspar took the opportunity to goad him onto the training grounds for a duel or ten- like back in the old days. Hilda was only goading him on- told him it would be 'manly' and 'sexy."

Linhardt sighed. "Idiots, the lot of them."

"There you are!" spoke Dorothea at last, appearing slightly winded. "I go to congratulate Manuela and catch up for five minutes and you're getting into trouble already! Lin, what am I going to do with you?"

Linhardt shrugged. "You're the one who married me." he reminded. "I would assume the onus is on you to answer that question."

Neither Ferdinand nor Bernadetta could find an issue in that reasoning on such short notice. "What was all this commotion about, anyway?" inquired the songstress.

Linhardt placed his chin between his thumb and index finger, as though pondering something. "Bernadetta here apparently finds Lady Rhea to be rather frightening, while Ferdinand does not seem to concur." he informed. "I'd like your thoughts on the matter, dearest. Do you agree with Bernie?"

Both Lord and Lady Aegir shooting their old friend displeased looks, Dorothea was nonetheless, taken somewhat aback by the question. "I-I don't know." she lied.

"Well, thank you for your input, my love. Well! All this excitement! I think I might need to rest my eyes before I return to the festivities."

_Frightening_ , Dorothea thought. That's a polite way of saying she's _a godsdamned monster_ , she reflected bitterly. Felix just had a...less polite way of describing it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, this is basically my narration of what lit a fire (ahem) under Ferdinand to take his retinue and escape the empire. If you recognize who Edelgard is quoting (or rather, who she is) and its original context, you know it's no idle threat and it's not an entirely unreasonable suspicion on her part either. Of course it's a power move, FFS, she invited him to a noble's crucifixion and discussed hereditary blood feuds with him.
> 
> But anyway, if you read one of his notes in the confessional, Ferdinand (obviously anonymously) strongly insinuates that he would be a better emperor than Edelgard, and knowing her...excesses and ambitions, depending on how things turned out, it's not really difficult for me to imagine Ferdinand starting to see himself as the Brutus to her Julius Caesar, something I have Ganondorf taunt him about.
> 
> On that very same note and (attributed) quote, I got a dark laugh out of the idea of Edelgard at a play in an Enbarr theater which is then stormed by Dedue wielding a crossbow. And his VAs DID give him a good voice to bellow "thus always to tyrants!"


	3. Dear Cathy (Rhea/Catherine, Shamir/Catherine)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Catherine, Cassandra, whatever one wished to call her, was a woman of more than a few contradictions. After breaking up a "friendly" duel that gets out of hand, a stray comment from the parties reminds Catherine of Shamir's rather nasty parting letter to her, and leads her to reflect upon some of those contradictions.

"Come on, Catherine!" protested a rather-bruised Caspar. "We were just having a friendly spar! As a couple of responsible adults!"

"You don't have to drag me." protested Felix, disgust audible in his tone.

"Yeah, sure." replied Catherine, most unimpressed. "And I'm the queen of Faerghus."

For the sake of convenience and its proximity to the celebrations, Seteth had called Annette and Hilda to wait in the infirmary, given his preoccupation with the other guests and keeping an eye on his own spouse. Exactly as promised, Catherine released the men into the custody of their wives.

"Hey babe!" greeted Caspar, no attention paid to his bruising and the bloody gash on his forehead. "Whew, you were right! That WAS a rush!"

Felix on the other hand, despite the tears on his clothes and the deep cut on his cheek, was rather preoccupied by other concerns, such as Catherine's grip on his shoulder. "Get your hands off of me." he scowled. "Filthy, beast-loving..."

Needless to say, the two women had equally divergent reactions. "Wow, you really went all out, huh?" replied Hilda, surprised even given how long she'd known the man.

Sighing in concern and frustration, Annette mouthed a quick incantation to heal both of the men, her husband muttering something insulting in Catherine's direction. "How many times do I have to say it?" she asked. "You can't keep doing things like this on a whim!"

Felix rolled his crimson eyes. "I know, I know, Annie. But you're blowing this out of proportion-"

_"I am not! You're not just my husband anymore, you're the father of my children too! Imagine-"_

_"But nothing happened!"_

_"Yes, this time!"_

Even at the arguments she'd left behind, Catherine was not terribly worried. They were good kids and all couples fought sometime. Then again, she could say that about almost all couples, anyway. She'd seen them disagree, sure, but never _actually_ fight. Then again, the very last thing those two were was normal. Speaking of the Professor and good kids, Catherine thought, there was something that had been bothering her- making her grind her teeth together in anger more than anything- for a good four years now, she reflected upon as she wandered Garreg Mach, eventually meandering to the knight's quarters.

Lying against a training dummy and staring at the ceiling, in hindsight, it should not have been that surprising a turn of events, Catherine told herself. _She_ had pretty distant, even by her standards, and had little tolerance for the supernatural events apparently prolific to Fódlan. But Goddess damnit, did Shamir have to be so damned...nasty about it? Having read the letter's contents countless times, it still made her blood boil, but Catherine for some reason or another, could not bring herself to toss it out, tear it up, burn it- nothing. She could even hear Shamir's voice reading off the words.

_ "Dear Catherine, I'm done. I'm sorry, but I'm just done. I can't do this anymore. I know, I know, she saved your life- twice and you'll never stop loving her (kind of pathetic mooning over a married "woman," isn't it?), but I just can't- I won't- even for all the gold in the world, serve a giant scaly monster who'd probably rather rip my head off and slurp out my innards for a midnight snack. If you want to do so, be my guest, but I can't and won't be held responsible if and when she- or it- goes out of control and literally eats you alive. And that professor- or king- you and she think so much of? He's probably even worse than you. "Husband" my broken bowstrings. And there are going to be even MORE of them running around? So you'd willingly stick around and serve a "king" who'd pump even MORE monster bastards into your beloved "Lady" Rhea? And let them run around and put all of us in danger? When I first was preparing to come to your continent from Dagda, people kept telling me how crazy you Fódlans are and how I shouldn't get involved with them. Maybe they were right all along. So tell me, Catherine: If some group of people sprung up that wanted to get rid of those...things to protect humanity, can you honestly tell me you'd turn your sword on them without hesitation? And be thought of as a traitor to not only your people, but your entire species? And you'd be fine with that? But again, it's your prerogative. Anyway, good luck...on not becoming dinner. You're going to need it, Love, Shamir." _

Of course, when she thought of the notes's contents, Catherine seethed in disgust- less so for Shamir and the venomous bigotry oozing from her parting letter, but honestly, for herself. Had her conviction to serve and protect Lady Rhea and everything she cherished- her husband and daughter included- really come off as so insincere? And perhaps worst of all, to some animalistic part of her brain, what Shamir wrote actually made some sense. Even after everything she had done for her, to say nothing of saving her life twice, but very possibly a third time, only by her own hand. The teenage years- even as late as nineteen- were never exactly easy for anyone, as Catherine recalled well.  


_ "I always knew I was kind of...different from the other girls." she admitted. "Everyone else did too- Goddess, sometimes I just feel so alone- like they're right about what a freak I am. Like there really is no place in the world for...someone like me." _

_ "No, Catherine." insisted Rhea sternly, but with a hint of sadness. "If the world won't accept you, the fault lies with it, not you." _

And to answer Shamir's final, passive-aggressive question, yes. Yes, she would- she'd thought they'd settled this with their discussion of hypothetical war with Dagda. Catherine had in fact, fought in a number of skirmishes with such "liberators," and done so under the command of said king Shamir now seemed so dismissive of. Shambhala survivors who simply could not take the hint of their weird city collapsing in on them. Granted, she did not relish snuffing out their lives as her fellow commander Lysithea (who simply refused to accept surrender or give quarter), but putting down these fanatics honestly did not trouble her.  


But in the lonely halls of the knight's quarters, Catherine received a rather unexpected guest. "Yo, Catherine!" called Raphael jovially. "Or should I say, Professor Catherine?"

"Oh, Raphael." she replied. "I thought you'd be at the reunion."

"Yeah, but Caspar wasn't really feeling like a rack of ribs. So, I thought of you! Just fair warning before I finish them off."

Catherine chuckled fondly. "Yeah, that sounds good."

As they began to return to the reunion, a very pertinent fact about the giant suddenly returned to Catherine's mind. "It's not urgent at all," she began. "but can I ask you a favor, Raphael?"

"Sure!" he replied, slapping Catherine lightly on the shoulder. "For the only one in Garreg Mach to ever beat me at arm wrestling, I kinda owe you!"

"I know how close you and Shamir were back during the war- if you ever see her, can you tell her something for me? It's about a letter she sent me a while back- about Lady Rhea and my life choices."

Raphael furrowed his brow slightly. "Haven't seen her lately." he admitted. "Even so, I dunno if I'm the best guy to talk to her about this. I admit, she's way smarter than me."

"Even so, I think you're the only one she'd listen to. She'd always tell me how 'emotional' I get over Lady Rhea- and that's probably true- but it just irritates me how she can keep calling her a 'monster' like she does."

The gentle giant was taken aback slightly. "THAT'S what Shamir was so mad at you and Lady Rhea for?! And the Professor too?!" he said incredulously.

Catherine nodded sadly. "Yes, she wasn't subtle about it. Said she can't be around either of us for her own safety."

Rather disappointed in his old comrade, Raphael simply shrugged. "That little old thing?" he replied. "I don't see what she's so mad about anyway. Plenty of people are afraid of me, but hey- people are different! It keeps things interesting!"

For perhaps the first time that night, Catherine cracked a smile. "Yeah, I agree."

The giant beamed as he reminisced about their academy days. "And besides, if it weren't for Lady Rhea, I would have never have met the Professor or any of you! And she's done so much for us over the years- the shelter, the food, the friends, the food-"

Catherine chuckled. "I have to agree with you there, Raphael, my friend."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I read someone somewhere talking about how boring and unlikable the adult characters (as in adults pre-timeskip) were in this game and maybe it's a function of age, but I couldn't disagree more.
> 
> Yeah, yeah, I know you've got Felix in-game, but come on- a cool glowing sword, may or may not be a reference to Brienne of Tarth, is the cool, energetic, big sister figure swordmaster who's got the big gay for her liege, of course I took a liking to Catherine!
> 
> But in some more searching, I learned...eeesh, I thought my girl Hana was disliked. I didn't know she was one of the most despised playable characters in Three Houses! I mean, that never stopped me before (*coughs*Peri*coughs*), but damn!
> 
> Anyway, given their characterizations here, Felix...hasn't grown out of being edgy (I really only see him mellowing out after 30) and I've got nothing against Shamir (in fact, I'm rather fond of her design, to put it lightly), but even as early as Byleth's hair changing, she just seemed kind of...done with the supernatural stuff.


	4. Birthrights and Love (Annette/Felix, Ingrid/Sylvain, Ashe/Petra)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An irritated (even moreso than usual) Felix reunites with his old Blue Lion classmates. However, much to Annette's chagrin, the social situation or Sylvain are not the things that irritate him the most about the whole affair.

Both his pride and face still hurt somewhat from his scraps with Caspar, Felix could admit somewhat. But that actually had little to do with the crappy mood in which he'd found himself.

"Actually kinda surprised you showed, Felix." remarked Sylvain, half in jest. "I didn't think you'd be into sappy stuff like class reunions."

Felix rolled his eyes. "And I'm kinda surprised you managed to drag yourself away from the nearest whorehouses long enough to attend." he retorted.

Ingrid grimaced at this remark. "Ha, ha, very funny, Felix." she remarked, none too amused with the comment.

The surly swordsman tilted his head slightly in confusion. "I never said I was joking."

Annette returning to their group from a rather riveting conversation with Linhardt and Lysithea, coincidentally, Mrs. Fraldarius had met up with the one gentle soul seeking out her old classmates. "Oh, Mercie!" she exclaimed.

The blonde's kind face lit up even further, embracing her old friend. "Annie!" she exclaimed in return, embracing the other woman. "How have you been? We've barely talked since before your youngest was born!"

"Busy. Very busy. Relief efforts, reconstruction. Things like that."

Felix still grumbling and glowering at the Professor and his lime-haired spouse interacting with the guests as though nothing were amiss, another former Blue Lion with a far sunnier disposition made his presence known. His unruly teal hair now pulled back into a ponytail, one of their old classmates, even well into his twenties, still hadn't lost that boyish sparkle in his eye. "Hey, everyone."

"Yo, Ashe!" greeted Sylvain. "How the hell have you been?"

Ashe smiled neutrally. "Oh, the usual." he remarked. "The Professor has been just amazing at all the help he's provided for Gaspard."

Ingrid nodded in approval. "Yes, he has." she echoed. "Those experimental crop strains developed in the greenhouses here have worked wonders for our territory as well."

Ashe tugged at the ponytail absentmindedly, clearly not used to having his hair styled in such a manner. "Anyway, the past few years, I've been doing some traveling and-"

_"Excuse me, Ashe!"_ called a distinctly-accented woman's voice.

Clad in colorful, flamboyant royal Brigid finery, Petra cupped her chin in her hands. "Linhardt and I have disagreement." she began. "He insists Lion King Loog has wielded a lance in War of Eagle and Lion, but I recall legends of his swordplay also."

"Well, technically, you're both correct, Petra. His primary weapon was a lance, but there are also tales of his mastery of the sword."

Petra nodded in triumphant comprehension. "Understood." she remarked, pecking him on the lips. "Thank you, my husband. I have only regrets that Grandfather could not see your wonder before his passing."

At having his question answered in a rather unexpected manner, Sylvain was visibly surprised. "Woah-ho!" he exclaimed. "Landing queens?! It seems our little Ashe had WAY more game than any of us gave him credit for!"

Ashe's expression reddened slightly. "I-it wasn't like that!" he stammered. "We had a conversation about how beautiful the stars in Brigid were and-"

Nudging the man with a wink, Sylvain gave him a mischievous smirk. "Okay, whatever you say, you charmer."

Another outsider in one sense, largely having maintained his silence throughout the night, spoke up at last, a hint of a nostalgic smile on his lips. "Judging by context clues and having witnessed Sylvain prior to Ingrid's making a better man of him," spoke Dedue at last. "I am inclined to agree with Sylvain about Ashe's mastery of 'game."

Interestingly enough given their history, it was not the redhead's wife to remark first upon his presence. "Oh, Dedue!" Annette exclaimed. "You were so quiet, I barely noticed you there."

"That is just as well." the Duscuran man remarked. "I am actually here on business and the reunion was not part of my original itinerary- I have matters of some urgency to discuss with the Professor."

Felix snorted a particularly loud snort of derision at his old classmates. "I don't see how you're just chatting away, having a grand old time with _that_ just traipsing around like it owns the place." he remarked nastily. "What if that beast goes out of control again, huh?"

Annette was briefly confused by her husband's remarks before she noticed the direction in which he was looking. "Felix, what are you talking about-?" she inquired. "Have you been drinking at all?"

Her old friend had been clued in even earlier than Annette. "Felix, please." Mercedes remarked sternly, an expression as close to anger as any of them had ever seen on her face. "Don't."

Again, the surly swordsman rolled his eyes, at Mercedes most of all. "The Empire, I could deal with. Underground cults of fanatics, I could deal with." he began. "Hell, even our souless, zombie ancestors bought back to try to kill us all, I could deal with. But beast-fucking is my line in the sand. And even worse is putting monster bastards into said beasts. Don't any of you see anything wrong with this?!"

"Hey, Felix." began Sylvain, utterly serious. "Don't you think it's sorta bad form to badmouth your kinda boss and his wife and kid- at their own party and their own residence?"

"Shut up, Sylvain." continued Felix. "I'm not afraid to say it. That 'woman' and everyone around her are a bunch of freaks. Did you notice a certain classmate of ours? Ten years and she's still the same weird little girl she always has been. That's not normal! She's probably some kind of monster too- along with her 'brother,' that nosy bastard. And speaking of him, everyone always knew that Manuela was a drunken, desperate slag, but spreading her legs for that...thing? And great, even more monster bastards. What kind of place can freaks like that have in a continent with people like us...well, people?"

Dedue glaring daggers at him from the wall, his wife was actually the one to issue the dressing down. "Felix, just shut up." she insisted. "Stop talking about this garbage!"

The surly swordsman simply scoffed in response. "What? Do you Dominic women always talk to your husbands this rudely?"

"Well, we do when they're being gigantic, braying jackasses!"

"Like I said, I'm not afraid to say what we're all thinking-"

"Oh, really?" came a neutral sounding voice. "Tell me all about my daughter and her unborn sibling."

"As a matter of fact," Felix resumed arrogantly. "I think-"

Felix's heart sunk into his stomach, utterly humiliated as the other members of his former house attempted to conceal their amusement at his severe social faux pas. Poorly, in Sylvain's case. Byleth's expression, while normally subdued, was visibly even less happy with him than Dedue. "And their mother." insisted the professor, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And their uncle and their cousin Flayn."

"I..."

Blissfully unaware of the situation, young Hestia beamed up at Felix, her emerald hair and eyes matching those of her parents. "Uncle Felix." she began innocently. "Can Dima and Glenn come to play soon?"

Utterly disarmed and defeated by the childlike innocence of the girl, Felix sighed tiredly. "Yes, yes, they can, Hestia."

The girl beamed. "Yay!"

Apparently satisfied with this answer, Byleth led his daughter away from the group, but not without another legitimate question in childlike language. "Papa." began Hestia. "Why does Uncle Felix sound like the evil witch you saved mama from?"

"That's because Uncle Felix has his head up the same dark place as the witch, sweetie." Byleth explained patiently, knowing fully well they were still in earshot. "A place that he should remove his head from."

"Can you tell the bedtime story of how you saved mama from the evil witch again? You tell it better."

"I'd love to."

This time, one of the Blue Lions actually did speak for all of them as father and daughter vanished into the halls. "The Professor..." Ingrid began. "He heard all of that, didn't he?"

"Every last word." confirmed her husband. "And besides, have you seen Lady Rhea? Have you seen the Professor? Could ANYONE really blame them for not stopping at just one kid?"

"No, I cannot." remarked Mercedes at last. "No, I cannot."

While Felix was still visibly red with Annette wearing a triumphant expression, the third couple was also struggling with language and its proper context.

"Ashe," said Petra quizzically. "What is 'game?"

"Ah, no Petra-" he remarked. "It's some stupid Sylvain thing. It means nothing!"

"If you are already having game, does that mean my dowry was not sufficient?"

"No, that's not it at all!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: That one line from Annette about how Felix is behaving is what actually convinced me to actually publish this idea. And yes, Felix and Annette's sons are named Dimitri and Glenn.


	5. Places to Belong (Marianne/Lorenz)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unlike her proud, loquacious husband, Marianne, even with her former Golden Deer classmates, is somewhat ill at ease. Not only due to her lingering fear of Rhea and her resulting guilt. A chance heart-to-heart conversation with Lysithea by the stables gives her a new perspective on her past- and future.

In their time at the officer's academy, the Golden Deer class of 1180 had a not-undeserved reputation as something of an...eccentric, motley crew. Nonetheless, for all of their eccentricity and differences, there was still one star which they (mercifully) found themselves orbiting in this new world of theirs.

"Ah, it's good to see you two again." said Byleth, some hint of a smile across his face. "How was Almyra?"

"Eh, same old, same old." Leonie insisted confidently. "Lotta arse-kissing, a few scraps. Gotta say, it beats hunting down bandits and imperial holdouts though."

"I'd heard there was a dreadful rebellion in the country's south while you were there." remarked Rhea. "Were you unharmed?"

Leonie shrugged. "Yeah, me and Alois helped put it down. Much as it hurts to admit, I've still got nothing on your husband; no one's ever going to forget the time that huge Almyran force just turned tail and ran once he showed up at the Locket."

Byleth nodded in acknowledgement. "Yes, the king was very keen on signing a friendship and non-aggression treaty after that." he reminded. "Still, I wasn't exactly happy to be there since Hestia was due any day at that point."

Leonie winked at him. "Well, His Majesty had that covered as well. He and his wyvern helped with that."

Eyes gleaming with pride, Alois sniffled. "Goddess, if only the Captain could see you now." he reminisced. "He'd be just be proud as...a school of fish!"

Leonie rolling her eyes at her partner's unusually-poor pun and Rhea recognizing her husband's reluctance about discussing the wyvern ride, all three parties abruptly broke off the conversation. "Oh, come now!" protested Alois. "It wasn't THAT bad!"

Elsewhere, on the floor, other's reunion experiences...were not going so smoothly. "Ah, Ignatz!" exclaimed Flayn. "It feels far too long since our parting!"

The introverted artist chuckled awkwardly. "Well, five years is a good bit of time." he replied.

"Oh, of course! Have your artistic endeavors proceeded apace?"

"Kind of. I've collected quite a bit of gold in my own right- and once my parents have someone to take over my place, I can start in earnest."

Flayn gave a somewhat-mischievous smile. "Sooooo...I have witnessed the reconstruction of the cathedral proceed these past few years." she remarked. "In my humble opinion, it exceeds its previous splendor. Would you care to have me 'pose' there as Saint Cethleann for the portrait you promised me?"

Ignatz's eyes lit up at this proposition. "O-of course!" he confirmed. "That sounds wonderful, Flayn-"

Ignatz suddenly felt a deceptively-powerful hand grasp his right shoulder, its owner apparently found something to take away attention from shadowing his king, queen, and wife alike. "Not on your life, boy!" scowled Seteth, clutching his shoulder so hard he feared it would shatter.

Flayn sighed in exasperation. "F-Brother, I must have told you a thousand times." she said tiredly. "Ignatz is just a FRIEND. He simply wishes me to pose for one of his paintings."

Wrenching Ignatz's arm and putting him into a very uncomfortable hold, Seteth forcibly walked the smaller man away from his daughter. "A likely story!" he insisted.

"It's the truth!" swore Ignatz fearfully. "I s-swear!"

"Trying to lure an innocent young maiden like my sister to a vacant cathedral at this time of night? How big a fool do you think me to be?! As if I was not young once myself!"

It was a point of considerable pride for Lorenz as the new Count Gloucester that one of his positions included the being the king's right hand in Leicester, reminiscing about old times as to what made him so worthy to serve. "To carry out one's duty to their people," he resumed. "even as it feels like one's heart is being ripped from their breast. The Professor may not have a noble linage, but that is the very epitome of nobility. Even for the sake of my house and people, even the thought of raising even a hand to my beloved Marianne- the love of my life and mother of my children- is unbearable to me."

The countess gave a weary smile to her husband, silently praying that the two individuals (especially one of them) concerned would not intrude upon the conversation.

"Speaking of the Professor, I've been wondering something." interjected Raphael. "Is there a reason he doesn't like wyverns? Or at least riding 'em?"

"He never talked about his personal life much, but he said it bought back bad memories." Hilda recalled. "According to the gossip back in the day, he tried to teach one of his students to ride one. Only thing is, she was apparently more interested in riding _him_ than the wyvern."

"Yeah, that sounds about right." confirmed Caspar, knowing immediately the troubled soul of whom his wife spoke. "I should know. I was in the Professor's class with both of them."

Marianne however, remained somehow out of the loop. "Er, what do you mean 'ride' him, Hilda?" she inquired innocently. "Like ride on his back? Like a horse? That sounds rather uncomfortable."

The three women present shot Marianne a puzzled look before Lysithea spoke. "Wait, really?" she inquired. "You're a married mother of two with a husband who worships the ground you walk on. How did THAT of all comments go over your head?"

Marianne's face reddened. "Um- Well...I..." she stammered awkwardly, desperate for an out. "Oh! What ever happened to Claude anyway? A reunion just feels incomplete without him, you know?"

"I dunno." admitted Raphael. "Wasn't he hurt pretty bad at Gronder? I can't see someone like him dyin' of his wounds without one hell of a fight, but who knows?"

Nose wrinkling at the mention of the trickster, Lorenz huffed. "I am inclined to agree, exactly as I told the Professor." he remarked. "However, if he lives still, I cannot truly say that I miss him a good deal. This is a delicate time for Fódlan, and given his inclinations toward scheming and...oh dear, what's the word I'm looking for?"

Having been released from Seteth's wrath mere minutes ago, Ignatz rejoined his old classmates, massaging his dislocated shoulder. "Subversion?" he suggested.

Lorenz was visibly lost in thought for a couple of seconds. "Subversion' is such an ugly word, but nonetheless..."

Having spotted the couple (the Professor more than his wife, honestly) discussing something with Dedue and approaching their general direction, Marianne felt her heartbeat quicken. _"Oh, Goddess, please no."_

"Hello, Marianne, Lorenz." greeted Rhea sunnily, wearing the expression with which they had all come to associate her. "It has been too long, has it not?"  


Lorenz gave a short bow. "Ah, Their Majesties! Indeed, it has." he confirmed. "I can assure you, Professor- without the likes of Acheron and other fools, my reforms are-"

"There's no need to discuss work tonight, Lorenz." insisted Byleth. "I know, I know, you consider Caspar, Sylvain, and especially Ferdinand your rivals, but tonight is about relaxing and catching up."

Rhea's face lit up once again. "And I would like to extend my congratulations to you both, Marianne." she remarked, briefly turning her adoring gaze onto Byleth. "This one tells me that you and Lorenz are expecting another child as we are."

"Y-yes." Marianne confirmed weakly. "Th-thank you, Lady Rhea."

Clasping her dainty hand, Lorenz gave Marianne a similar gaze as the archbishop did her mate. "Marianne is a wonderful mother- kind, selfless, patient, nurturing. And children are our future, after all."

Rhea beamed. "That they are." she echoed. "By the by, Marianne. How are Hermann and Margrethe?"

"They're f-fine!" Marianne insisted forcefully. "Perfectly fine! No need to visit in fact!"

Wiping some sweat from her forehead, by this point, Marianne was convinced her tremors were visible before the one woman whom she paradoxically revered, but by whom was also utterly terrified. After Shahmbala and for some time before her and Lorenz's return to Leicester, she'd, alongside Mercedes and Linhardt, served as one of the chief healers under Manuela's direction. And on a certain evening after the cult's stronghold fell, all four of them had a great deal of work.

As a battlefield medic more or less, Linhardt never talked about (outside of irritating Rhea and her husband with intrusive questions) his experiences to her, but Marianne had, on that terrible, traumatic day, healed many of the troops injured in that battle. Their wounds- many of them quite horrible- did not bother Marianne so much as the inhuman screeches and roars ( _"You will not be forgiven!"_ ) which haunted the gentle healer's nightmares, reluctant to even discuss said nightmares with Hilda or even Lorenz.  


Even as weak as she may have been at the time, Marianne even feared bringing their son to Garreg Mach to receive the royal couple's blessing. While she was not sure even her husband noticed, Marianne was very aware of her heart pounding and and palms clamming up as the dragon queen smiled and kissed their infant son's head, the words of even some of her old comrades from the war ( _"I wouldn't bring your son around here if I were you."_ she distinctly remembered Shamir's words pounding in her head. _"Catherine would have a fit if she heard me say this, where you see your precious baby boy, monsters like her probably see a snack."_ ) haunting her thoughts. And that was just that one incident; as prickly as he may have been, as wonderful as Flayn may have been, Felix was right about one thing; she was simply _not normal_. And when Hermann did come of age? A part of her dreaded him introducing her, or even more terrifyingly considering her mother, Hestia along the lines of _"Father, Mother. There is someone I would like you to meet- someone very important to me."_ THAT she simply could not deal with-!

The dread and anxiety becoming overwhelming, Marianne, abruptly pulling her clammy hand from Lorenz's grip, found her face reddening further. "I'm sorry!" she said. "I-I just need some air!"

Marianne bolting from the corner where they stood as fast as her legs could carry her, Count Gloucester could only powerlessly reach a hand in her general direction. "Marianne, wait! What is the matter?!"

Head pounding and heart feeling as though it were about to leap from her chest, even though she felt as though she were running for her life, Marianne honestly felt as though the breath was being stolen from her lungs. Given how much the Professor- and Lady Rhea- had done for her- even with how she had been treated nearly all of her life, like she was some kind of monster just waiting for her chance to pounce upon innocent (or "normal") people, Marianne, being a naturally anxious woman, was more often than not, simply overpowered by these anxieties when dealing with Rhea. As awful and ungrateful as that made her feel, there was still that nagging little voice in the back of her head- generally concerning the words of Dorothea or (less delicately) Felix: _"What if they're right?"_

In line with her instincts during her time as a student at Garreg Mach, Marianne, in a somewhat less-panicked state of mind, found herself gravitating to the one place in the monastery where she could reliably find companionship. "Hello, my old friends." she greeted with a weary smile, patting one of the mares on the neck. "Has peace been as kind to you all as it has to me?"

Marianne took notice of one of the foals dozing not far from his mother. "Oh, is he your baby?" she inquired gently. "A lot's changed, huh? I'm actually a mama myself now. A little boy and a girl. My mate- their father- he's the most wonderful man to ever live. But there are times when I feel like...I don't deserve any of them."

The depressive healer sighed. "And I wonder- with how I've treated them since the war- Lady Rhea, the Professor, even little Hestia- am I really any different than those people who feared and hated me for my birth? Perhaps I'm not as good a person as he tells me...?"

"Alright, I've heard enough."

Emerging from behind the stablekeeper's house, the voice's owner gave Marianne quite a start. "Lysithea!" she exclaimed. "H-how long have you been there?!"

Lysithea crossed her arms under her chest. "Long enough." she said. "Lorenz is worried sick about you."

"Ah- that's just like him."

"You just dashed out of the reunion like you thought you were going to die. Of course he's worried!"

Approaching the other woman, Lysithea rather uncharacteristically placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Now what's all this nonsense about you not being as good as Lorenz says you are?" she inquired.

As though she were about to dive into a body of water from a great height, Marianne took a deep, bracing breath. "You know about my...situation, of course." she began.

"Of course." Lysithea confirmed. "It's not so different from mine."

"Anyway, you know how people like Dorothea or Felix talk about- her- Lady Rhea. And even the Professor sometimes. And part of me can't help but wonder if they're right before I think- am I really any different than the people who scorned me for bearing Maurice's Crest? Those ugly, ugly words they use; "monster" or "demon" or-"

Lysithea smirked knowingly. "Freak who should have never been born?"

"Yes, exactly!" she confirmed. "All of those things...I'd heard about myself from the time I was a child. Not even just from other children either."

"I can relate to that, as well, Marianne."

Marianne sighed. "I-I don't think you can exactly, Lysithea. That's easy for you to say- you're probably the best woman I know!"

Lysithea's expression turned wistful, her piercing, pink eyes boring into Marianne. "I'm flattered to hear you say that, but I'm not as great as you think I am."

"Wait?! What are you talking about?"

Lysithea inhaled, not unlike Marianne had for her earlier confession. "Can I confide something in you?" she inquired softly. "I've never told anyone this- not the Professor or even Cyril."

"Of course you can. But what are you talking about, Lysithea?"

"Like I said, I'm nowhere near as flawless as you think I am."

Looking back on the journey she'd been on, Lysithea could not help but give a little smile in spite of herself. "Ever since...that- happened to me- when I received my 'gift' from those mages- I became a really, really angry person." she confessed. "Angry enough to the point where...I could see where Edelgard was coming from. Even after she attacked Garreg Mach and all that nastiness, there were a number of points in my life where...I could have actually seen myself joining her. She actually did personally try to convince me once."

Marianne gave a slight gasp. "Really?!"

"Yes, really. I know, I know- her methods were murderous and completely barbaric. Ask your husband about that- Gloucester probably got it the worst of all the Alliance territories. But even knowing that...she TALKED such a good game- she was really good at putting ideas into people's heads- especially revenge fantasies for an angry teenage girl. And they were appealing, I won't lie to you. But wait, there's more. Do you remember the Professor's assault on Shambhala? Cyril and I...were part of his vanguard and-"

Lysithea turned her gaze away from the other woman, eyes turned downward in guilt. "I didn't kill those people to protect my comrades or even to protect Fódlan." she confessed. "I... _reveled_ in killing those people...making them suffer as much as possible before they died. Knowing they were from the very same people who put me through all that, I was so full of rage and lust for revenge, that Cyril had to physically stop me from doing a lot of stupid things."

"Oh, Goddess, Lysithea..." remarked Marianne sympathetically.

"You, you're completely different, Marianne. I can't read your mind, but I know fully well you only took up Maurice's blade- and braved all of those Demonic Beasts- to _protect_ your comrades. I never recall you even raising a hand to anyone in anger, let alone ending someone's life if there was ever any way to avoid it."

Lysithea crossed her arms over her chest. "If you look down on me for it, I won't fault you." she remarked at last. "All I'm saying is that you should stop selling yourself short. You _know_ it's wrong to treat people like we were treated and you fight your impulses to do so."

"I...don't look down on you, Lysithea. Knowing that you can admit to this...I actually respect you even more."

"Wait, why?! And how?!"

For perhaps the first time that night, Marianne smiled. "You may have had the same experiences with your Crests and taken away similar anger from the experiences. But your ultimate choices are what distinguished you. You used- and continue to use- your natural gifts and Crests' power to _protect_ what you love and build something better. Edelgard chose to use her gifts and her Crests' power to destroy, and only _then_ rebuild Fódlan in her image."  


Exactly as the man who'd bade Lysithea to retrieve her, the prodigy was finding Marianne's smile contagious. "We've really made a lot of the same mistakes in our lives, huh?" she remarked.

"Yes, I suppose we have. We're not that different at all, are we?"

"Not in the least."

Lysithea's expression grew into a true, genuine expression of gratitude. "Marianne...thank you." she said. "I may not be your sister-in-arms or a noble any longer, but I'll always be your friend."

Marianne returned the expression. "Thank you, Lysithea."

"Now then! Shall we return to the reunion?"

"Yes, let's do that, friend."


	6. Gazing at Sirius (Rhea/Byleth)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I see how many of your students- your people- look upon you with me at your side and wonder- do you ever regret choosing to stand by my side? Against her, I mean?"
> 
> Even the most powerful and stately of figures have anxieties, doubts, fears- regrets. Fortunately for Seiros, this time, she is far from alone. Her husband, their daughter, and an unexpected guest making this very clear to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is what happens when you're me and you ship Byleth with the Takumi of Three Houses.

His queen had retired some minutes beforehand to their living space, no doubt to check on their daughter. Byleth, perhaps in line with his previous lives as a professor and a general, had stuck around to observe the cleanup efforts. Despite the protests from the staff, he even helped with a bit of cleaning here and there. Tiring of this minutiae, Byleth recalled his conversation with a certain one of his students and made his way to the third floor- the (not-so) young family's living space, where one of the knights awaited him dutifully with a letter and a bundle.

"From Sir Dedue, milord." introduced the knight, handing both over to Byleth.

Opening the letter, the erstwhile professor scanned it over. _"Yo, Teach! Looks like you've really been moving up in the world, huh?"_ Immediately, the letter's author was betrayed by the language and exotic stationery. _"Sorry I couldn't make the reunion. Duty called and my bum arm's been acting up a bit anyway. If this gets to you in time, give everyone, especially the Deer, my regards- just so they know I'm still alive and kicking. Even outside Fódlan, word gets around fast. Like I said, it seems you've really been moving up in the world! King Teach the First, huh? Truth is, I can't think of any better hands to leave Fódlan in than yours- I trust your hands one hell of a lot more than I do Edelgard's anyway. But I was actually really surprised to learn one thing. You and Rhea? I mean, I knew she was always fond of you, but that one caught even ME by surprise! And you're even a dad now too? For my next letter, I'll see if I can't scare up an exotic toy for your little angel- compliments of old Uncle Claude. Oh, and speaking of presents, I'm sure Dedue delivered the package I sent with this letter. A blade I dropped quite a bit of gold to get custom-made for you. It's even got a fancy name on the hilt and blade! I know you can make way better use of it than I can. Consider it a late wedding present- a token of me entrusting Fódlan to you. Don't be a stranger, Claude."_

Unwrapping the bundle, Byleth had to agree that this was a fine blade, with quite a lot of time and effort put into it. He'd never quite seen anything like it. Still, something about Claude, he could never exactly place it, just inexplicably rubbed him the wrong way. As though he were _expecting_ to be betrayed by him...five separate times. And what sort of stupid name was "Terminus Pride" anyway?  


"Take this to Seteth and his men." he ordered. "Have them examine this weapon thoroughly."

The knight nodded. "At once, sir." he confirmed.

As the knight's boots pattered against the monastery floor, Byleth thought it wise to join his queen- and their little princess- in her nightly ritual.

Even though the very last thing he was was a "normal" man, Byleth had informed Rhea that her habit of watching young Hestia while she slept- if for no other reason than to verify her safety- was far from uncommon among human parents. Of course, this was a very special case with a very special child- a member of a race most save perhaps the Goddess herself had given up for dead- when they did not wished them finished off, anyway.

"She's just so...radiant." Rhea whispered. "So beautiful..."

Byleth smiled. "Well, like mother, like daughter, after all."

Still, that rare smile- that expression of genuine happiness and joy, never failed to melt Rhea's heart after all this time, taking her husband's hand in her own. "The church, our struggles...even Nemesis..." she whispered. "All pale in comparison to her."

"I agree completely, my love."

"If only Mother could be here to see...to hold her..."

"She is, my queen. She's just as overjoyed as we are, I assure you."

The toddler with her parents' lime green hair dozing innocently as the moonlight shone down on her, Hestia's mother, already a woman with a tendency towards letting her mind wander, could not help but wonder what such a world had in store for her.

"May I ask something of you, my treasure?" inquired Rhea quietly, gazing pensively at the moonlight. "I see how many of your students- your people- look upon you with me at your side and wonder- do you ever regret choosing to stand by my side? Against _her_ , I mean?"

"Not for a second." Byleth confirmed steadfastly.

"Even with how close you two always seemed to be?"

"Even so, my love. My answer remains the same."

It was true that Edelgard von Hresvelg was, without a doubt, one of, if not the most talented students he had taught in his time at Garreg Mach. And, in addition to pouring her heart out to him on a couple of occasions, she had taken quite a liking to him in a way his other students had not. And this was not a well-concealed ( _"Oooooh, so that's what it is, huh?"_ Dorothea said pruriently. _"So you're into older men, Edie? Well, I'm rooting for you two, kid."_ ) secret either. But one fact simply remained- he may have not had a more gifted student than Edelgard during his time as a professor, but no other student of his had chosen to use those gifts so incredibly foolishly- murderously, even.

He had always been more perceptive than he had been given credit for. And the more time he spent with the Hresvelg princess, the more red flags her behavior raised. He could look past her unusually subdued emotional responses. Hell, a lot of people said that about himself, so that was largely a nonstarter and even the presence of as odious a figure as Hubert was a purple flag at worst. However, the increasingly grandiose and violent "hypothetical" situations posed by her, her frequent mysterious disappearances at the most convenient times, speaking of the enigmatic Flame Emperor as though an intimate friend, and a well-concealed-but-literal lust for power than had come out once he'd ridden a wyvern with her, all gave Byleth the impression that there was something very, very wrong with this young woman. After Jeralt's murder by the Agarthan using the literally stolen identity of Monica, even one of his own students, Adrestian herself, wondered aloud about Edelgard's odd behavior.

But the straw that broke the camel's back- the one moment that made him completely certain that this "path" of hers was one he had no interest in following- was witnessing her deposition of her own father from his throne, immediately followed by her ordering _("I, Edelgard von Hresvelg, First of Her Name, Emperor of the Adrestian Empire, Breaker of Chains and Bringer of Light, hereby sentence you to die for your crimes against the people.")_ the imprisonment and execution of his prime minister. To say nothing of the figurative and literal lust for power he had seen from Edelgard being disturbing enough, but the ease with which she sentenced the man to die- the self-righteous purpose, even sadistic joy in her tone in offering him the "choice" of being crucified or (her self-admitted favorite) burned alive, told Byleth that there was no way in the eternal flames that he would ever follow this woman. While stoic and unflappable, to say the very least, the fact that during the carriage ride back to the monastery, the princess regaled him with tales of the grand (and necessarily bloody) reforms she'd planned and basically molested him at a number of points where she'd become particularly animated, only justified this decision further in Byleth's mind. To say nothing of raiding the Holy Tomb and subsequent invasion of Garreg Mach.

He would not laugh about it- he was never much the laughing type- but well after he'd recounted the gory details of his relationship with the Hresvelg princess to Seteth, he could find some amusement in his past obliviousness. By the time Byleth recounted the carriage ride to him after his five-year absence, the old warrior was visibly surprised by how forward she'd been. Particularly Edelgard's words ( _"I wish you were someone whose heart could be swayed by my words and deeds."_ she spoke, the first trace of genuine regret or sadness he'd ever seen in her eyes. _"If it were so, I would have done anything to make you my ally..."_ ) once he'd sought her out in his vain attempt to end the siege. _"Oohhhhhhhh...THAT'S what she meant..."_

But the fact was that for the longest while, for Byleth, his students were the closest thing he'd had to children of his own. Even after his biological daughter was born, they all still held a special place in his heart and always would. With this in mind, he absolutely dreaded and despised writing letters of notification to next-of-kin, every letter committed to paper reminding him of his own flaws, failings, or simply poor fortune that saw their loved one fall under his command. And no parent- in anywhere near a healthy state of mind or soul- wants to kill their children. Precisely as he told his stern right-hand man as Enbarr was reduced to a battlefield around them. Needless to say, among members of the Resistance Army, it was a matter of heated speculation as to _why_ exactly Edelgard saw all this as necessary. ( _"So was I!"_ protested Lysithea indignantly. _"So were the people of Remire, the real Monica, and countless others, I'm sure! How many of us thought we had the right to take her 'path?!' And had the opportunity to act on it like she has?!"_ _"Agreed."_ said Sylvain, completely and utterly seriously. _"As much as 'Her Majesty' would doubtlessly like to think, she's not the only victim here. Whatever those weirdos may have done to her doesn't even come close to justifying all the things she's done."_ )

( _"If I must fall..let it be by your hand."_ she begged breathlessly. _"I wanted...to walk with you..."_ )

 _"We don't always get what we want, Edelgard."_ he thought bitterly as he raised the Sword of the Creator. That mantra had stuck in his mind ever since Sothis had warned him that Jeralt's murder may simply have been an act of fate. _He_ wanted not to bury any more of his students because of her warmongering- after they had been stabbed, slashed, impaled, crucified, gored, mutilated in various fashions, and burned alive, on and off the battlefield. _He_ did not want to write any more letters to notify the devastated loved ones of the fallen, especially when it was impossible to retrieve their remains or even effects. _He_ did not want this sort of power to rule the continent dumped into his lap by pure circumstance. _He_ did not want, exactly as Lorenz had so eloquently put it, to raise the Sword of the Creator against the love of his life and mother of his children, an implement (It got sicker and sicker the more Byleth thought about it; Felix could grumble at him reinterring the sword all he liked) literally carved from the bones of her own beloved mother. And yet, he took on all of those burdens- not because he wanted to, but because fate and duty _demanded_ it of him.

He would of course, never forget said experiences; but the fact remained that both he and Rhea had mourned- and suffered- enough for countless human lifetimes already. And now, Byleth thought, they were at long last being rewarded for said suffering. "Let's let her sleep." he said softly.

"Yes, let's." answered Rhea with a tired smile.

Their bedroom connected to a nursery via a small annex, the archbishop, her king's hand in hers as they walked, could not help but pose him another question. "Did it ever give you pause about how you felt?" she inquired, the slightest hint of anxiety in her tone. "Once you learned who- or what- I truly am? During the invasion...I sent you away from my side for a reason, after all."

Byleth smiled dreamily at her. "Not in the least." he replied. "How could I? I was- and am- in love."

Rhea appeared genuinely surprised by this response. "Truly? How long...had you felt that way?"

"On some level, I'd known since I heard your voice the night of the ball. I really did not want to dance with any more of the students- especially the one who was most insistent- but when I heard that beautiful, heavenly voice, I was mesmerized. After I killed Solon and heard your voice...that's when I knew for certain."

"Oh, my love..."

By this point, the conversation had bought them to the other threshold of the bedroom. Overwhelmed with a pleasant swelling of emotion, Rhea pounced on her husband, taking his lips in her own. Byleth returned the gesture with an appropriate response, allowing his hands to travel down her body. His queen moaning with pleasure and anticipation into his mouth, he was nonetheless somewhat perturbed by the sound of a third party clearing their throat.

"I apologize for the interruption, Your Majesties." said one of the knights dutifully. "But since his duties are otherwise complete, one of the students wishes for a brief audience."

Sighing in annoyance, Byleth was fairly certain that the reunion attendees had all either departed for their next destinations or returned to their respective lodgings for the night. "Sure, why not?" he said. "Shall we do a bit more hosting, my dear?"

Rhea gave an uncharacteristic chuckle. "That sounds lovely."

In the audience chamber on the second floor adjacent to Rhea's study (it was rather inconvenient to have Byleth's study one floor above her own), the radiant royals awaited the unexpected guest. Both had assumed that it was some sort of business errand- and that was true, in one sense.

"Your Majesties." began Dedue, giving a light bow at the waist. "I apologize for the intrusion, especially at this hour, but I had to verify the status of Claude's bundle. I would be unable to forgive myself if it turned out to be some sort of trap."

"Ever the dutiful one, aren't you, Mr. Molinaro?" said Rhea, an appreciative smile on her lips. "I thank you for your concern."

"Has Lord Kleiman or any of his minions been harassing the people of Duscur?" inquired Byleth.

Dedue shook his head. "No, your verbal warnings have sufficed. For which you have my eternal gratitude, Professor. No, I would like to inquire about the experiments done in the greenhouse. Duscur is not exactly a verdant land, after all, and I have heard good things about the new crop strains in development."

Byleth smiled lightly. "If you'll stay in town until the morning, I'll tell the attendants to grant this man whatever he needs."

Once more, the stony-faced man bowed lightly. "Again, I thank you, Professor. By your leave."

As he turned to walk away and almost reached the great doors, Dedue spoke up once more. "And one last thing, Lady Rhea."

Rhea tilted her head in confusion. "What's the matter, Mr. Molinaro?"

"I am a man of Duscur. I have been from the day of my birth and will be until the day I breathe my last. And as I man, I have committed many sins. I have made many Adrestian and Agarthan widows and orphans and relished so doing. Those sins will also stay with me to my dying day. But that's just the thing; those sins are my own- not those of Duscur as a nation. I have no love for Faerghus. How could I? But I swore to His Highness that I would do my best to look after his people in his absence. I am no oathbreaker- if I decided to turn my back on that oath and allow his people to suffer and starve- women, children, old men who've never held a weapon in their lives- out of a sense of self-righteous vengeance, could I really call myself any different than those who destroyed Duscur and its people?"

"Dedue..." Byleth interjected solemnly.

"Your husband- the Professor- is a good man, Lady Rhea. I fought at his side to destroy the tyrant Edelgard and against fanatic Shambhala remnants. Because I believe in him. Because I believe in his vision of a Fódlan- of a world where collective punishment for the real and imagined sins of a nation like Duscur is regarded as the barbarism that it is. As I said previously, I am both a man of Duscur and a man who has committed many sins. But it's the same all over- those sins are those committed by us as persons, not nations- be they Duscur, Faerghus, or even Nabatea. With this in mind, the only thing I can do is continue to try and lead live an honorable life, my head held high and proud. If I did not, I would never be able to face my family and friends- or His Highness- in the next life."

Rhea smiled somberly. "You always were wise beyond your years, Mr. Molinaro." she complimented. "Thank you, truly."

Byleth spoke as Dedue finally departed. "It's like I told you already," Byleth said. "what the world thinks- what my students think- or even what Cichol and Cethleann think- doesn't really concern me. What I need you to know- to truly accept- is that you're no monster and have just as much right to live and exist in this land as any of us do."

Rhea appeared to be on the verge of long-suppressed tears of joy. "My love...Byleth...thank you. Thank you so very much."

Embracing his wife- his queen- his love- the mother of his child, one thing about Rhea that had always amazed the professor was that after everything she had been through, she possessed as much love for humanity- or the world in general- as she did. The amount of grief and despair she had to have kept bottled up for centuries honestly boggled his mind. And even to the point that she would still risk her life to protect this land and its inhabitants? He would not have been surprised, nor would he have blamed Seiros for hating the world and everything in it with her experiences. _He_ would have hated the world and humanity in general if he'd had her experiences.

"Well, the reunion is concluded and the guests have departed." Byleth began with a smile. "Shall we retire to the terrace, Seiros, my queen? Watch the stars for a while?"

"Yes, that sounds just lovely." Rhea answered with a smile. "Byleth, my king."

For the High King and Seiros, romantic nights under the stars- whether to dine, sing, dance, make love, or simply watch the stars- had a special significance. Despite what they would have hoped, things, places, and (almost all) faces came and they went, the only true constants being the stars and each other. Human lifetimes were far too short for them not to be. Honestly, the idea of losing even more of his students- even to natural causes after a full life- terrified Byleth for the longest time. But now? He could not wait to spend countless such evenings with his queen and their children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are at the end of this! This was of course, inspired by something I did for the last game (not surprising coming from probably the last internet user who actually liked the game), only this time I actually had an excuse to have the events take place over the course of one night.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Ave Imperatrix, Morituri te Salutant](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22308898) by [Sharyrazade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sharyrazade/pseuds/Sharyrazade)




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